WALKING CANVAS
by viperqueen13
Summary: It has been ten years since the fall of Knight-Commander Meredith, and since then a Great War against the Qunari has consumed many lives, including the Champion of Kirkwall and some of her companions. Fenris and Varric return to Kirkwall after years of travel, only to hear whispers of a new vigilante hero lurking the streets in thedark of night, called the Black Falcon...
1. Prologue: Damsel

**WALKING CANVAS**

A Fenris/OFC FanfictioN

By

Viperqueen13

Author's Note: _Any character apart from my original creations belong and are created by the team at Bioware and EA Games_

***PROLOGUE: DAMSEL***

Darktown, Night

Mia was trapped.

What was meant to be a simple walk home from the bazaar in Lowtown, turned into an ambush by several bandits. Even more unfortunate for her, the Steel Gauntlets had a penchant for attacking young women, and very rarely did they ever walk away alive.

The leader of the Steel Gauntlets, an overweight ex-Templar going by the nickname Scar, had begun to inch towards Mia with a rusty dagger, whilst a couple of Rogue Archers silently made towards blocking all possible exits.

"Now, now girlie, there's no need to run," Scar drawled, "we're all friends here. Just give us ya silver, and we'll let you on your merry way, won't we lads?"

"I-I can't!" Mia stammered, "I don't have single coin in my purse!"

The ex-Templar tutted mockingly. "Such a shame. I'm upset, and lots of people don't end up sticking around when I get upset." He then added with a sadistic grin, "Still, perhaps there's something we can sort out?"

The remainder of the Steel Gauntlets started to close in, several of them with a creepy glint in their eyes. Mia took a step back, only to find herself greeted with a corner and no way out.

"W-what are you-?"

"You'll find out soon enough." Scar whispered softly, licking his lips. "Hold her down boys, I'm going to enjoy this..."

Two Rogues grabbed Mia's arms. Just as a third made to gag the young woman he stopped dead in his tracks. Scar growled with impatience, freezing midway to his belt and pants.

"What's the hold-up!? Don't tell me ya decided to grow a conscience- hey, what the-?"

The bandit Scar grabbed quickly fell to the ground, a bloody bolt sticking out of his chest and skull. Suddenly, a shower of arrows darkened the sky and began to pierce both ground and enemy flesh, couple of the Steel Gauntlet dying instantly on impact. Without even a second to draw his weapon, Scar was pinned to the ground by an unknown assailant, a Blade of Mercy gleaming near his throat. The attacker turned to Mia, who was cowering with fear.

"Go! If you value your life, run!"

As a way of response, a Miasmic Flask shattered the ground out of nowhere, stunning the Rogue Archers guarding the nearest exit so Mia could escape. Another voice called out to her.

"Get to safety quickly! The Hanged Man is your best chance, now hurry!"

Scar could not do anything but stare at the man that was crushing his chest, livid with rage. Not that it was another Human that kicked his arse, but of all people, it was a knife-eared bastard of an _Elf_.

He was tanned, with short silver hair and piercing green eyes, and tattoos that glowed bright as a star in what little light Darktown had. For an Elf he was tall, and whilst thin he was strong and agile, which attributed to taking down Scar with little effort.

"Do not struggle, Human." he hissed, "One wrong move, and the shadows will pierce you like your friends."

Rather than accepting defeat, Scar had somehow managed to grab a handful of dirt and threw it into the Elf's eyes, distracting him enough so the ex-Templar could shove him off and make for the nearest weapons he could find, which was an old longsword and a small battered shield studded with arrows. But he barely made for the shield when a large foot stomped down hard on his stubby fingers, and a modified automatic crossbow pointed at his forehead.

"Y'know," came the owner of the curious-looking weapon, "I gotta admit, ya got some major stones to fight dirty, what with your comrades dead, and no decent weapon in site; that, or just plain stupid. Still, it seems gangs aren't the same as they used to be, huh Fenris?" this last part added to the Elf, who was silently brooding at being on the end of a cheap trick. The soliloquy came from the mouth of a Dwarf, draped in furs, thick gloves and blond hair tied back in a ribbon to broadcast his silver tongue more clearly to the world around him. He made to re-strap his crossbow to his back as the one named Fenris clubbed Scar with the pummel of his sword, knocking him unconscious.

"Pity," he spoke softly, "It seems that you managed to have all the fun yet again, Varric. All I seem to have done is squash one little bug." Varric gave a sly smile in response.

"And yet, like real bugs, someone has to play Exterminator in this neck of the woods. And make sure that your ass remains intact." he then added with a chuckle.

"Mental image noted, friend," Fenris mumbled, then proceeded to loot the surrounding bodies for items that were not damaged by Varric Tethras' arrows, "Kirkwall; ten years since the downfall of Meredith, and yet here we are, right back to before we had our lives changed forever by the so-called 'Champion of Kirkwall'. Who would've thought that places like Darktown would still be standing after the Great War?"

Varric remained silent for a moment, reflecting tainted memories that had haunted his dreams since the war began.

"We lost a lot of people during the war, many we care about. Isabela, Sebastian, Carver, even..." he trailed off briefly, realizing that he said too much. Fenris had briefly paused just as he was about to mention the Champion's name, which no longer held warmth and affection, but instead a dagger of grief and regret. Quickly, Varric slapped on a grin and attempted to change the subject.

"Anyway, let's grab what we can and head to the Hanged Man for a pint, my shout. Whaddya say?"

Fenris just nodded. He picked the few coins and potions that were salvageable and made his way towards the exit to Lowtown. He was almost there, when he thought he saw something move in the shadows; something shrouded in dark, with a brief flash of yellow, and just as quickly it disappeared. Were Fenris and Varric being watched? Or stalked as prey?


	2. Chapter 1: Broken Champion (Falcon)

**WALKING CANVAS**

A Fenris/OFC Fanfiction

By

Viperqueen13

Author's Note: _Any character apart from my original creations belong and are created by the team at Bioware and EA Games_

***CHAPTER ONE: BROKEN CHAMPION (ODE TO THE FALCON)***

The moment Meredith fell was when everything changed.

There was a period of time when the throughout the lands, chaos ensued almost as bad as if it were a Blight, where Mages and Templars were at each others throats as well as fighting amongst themselves; it seemed as if the mere utterance of the name Hawke became a powerful weapon as well as a beacon of hope.

It was the Champion herself, who came out of hiding from the world, to end the conflict by constructing a peace Treaty between both parties, which came to be known as the Oath of Tears. Overseen by both the First Grey Warden, High Enchanter, Supreme Knight Commander and Sovereign Grand Cleric. It was an oath similar to the treaties used by the Hero of Fereldan in her battle against the Archdemon, as well as functioning as a kind of law; whilst acting as a judge upon war crimes amongst two or more parties, it entitled a party to call for aid from the other as well as those from outside the signing of the Treaty when in a circumstance most dire. For the next two years, a shaky order was kept under the watchful eye of the Grey Wardens, The Hero of Fereldan and the Champion of Kirkwall.

Then... the Great War began.

After the assignment of a new Arishok, the Qunari of Par Vollen began a mass onslaught from Tevinter to Antiva City, wiping out entire bloodlines and crippling Mage Circles with little casualties of their own. Even with the Oath of Tears in full force, calling aid from parties from all over, the entire antaam of the Qunari was considered a difficult foe to defeat, especially since the new Arishok was twice as vicious as the one who was stranded in Kirkwall for four years and died at the hand of the Champion. It soon became apparent what the Arishok's main goal was; as well as crushing Human spirit and submitting Humans to the rule of the Qunari, he wanted to make Hawke suffer greatly for the loss of his predecessor, who turned out to share his blood as both brother and teacher.

In the dark of night, a lone Sareebas snuck into the Champion's secret camp whilst she slept and took her without a sound or struggle. Fenris, who was the only companion at the time that was still with Hawke, was left sleeping, and in turn felt weak and hopeless at not being able to help his friend and lover. Thankfully, one of the strange gifts bestowed to him via his lyrium tattoos, was the ability to detect the usually invisible trail left behind by Magic users, and follow it for several days to a fortified stronghold situated in the Free Marches. He had managed to send word to Varric Tethras, who happened to be the closest in Minrathous, but with him being a few hours away at least, Fenris was all alone for that moment.

It wasn't until he heard the sound of drums and horns erupting from the fortress that his heart practically stopped beating.

Daor Dia ní

, Fenris thought in horror. _They are preparing her execution_!

His gut screamed at him to wait for help, but all his blood ran from his head to his heart as he began his trek into the Qunari stronghold, alone and enraged like a wounded animal.

The moments from him reaching the gate to the centre of the fortress were all but a blur that

night; all he could remember were the sounds of clashing swords and the streaks of crimson that splashed across the Elf's face, for every moment was insignificant in comparison to the horror that he saw that starry night.

On a platform surrounded by spikes and shreds of bloody carcasses, was a bonfire of wood and straw. Standing erect amidst it all was a wooden star, with an unconscious victim tied spread-eagled across it like a martyr being crucified, stripped naked and covered in blood and bruises for the world to see. Standing next to the slumbering creature was the new Arishok, holding a flaming torch in one hand and a blood-coated dagger in another, dripping crimson on the wood as if to further feed the flame that was to come.

"HAWKE!"

The Champion of Kirkwall stirred only slightly, followed by a cough, splattering more blood on to her scarred bare chest. As the lone Elf charged to his lover's rescue, a voice began to whisper his name in a barely audible whisper.

"_Fenris... __Fenris... __Fenris...__"_

...

...

"..._Fenris__... Fenris_... _Fenris..._ Fenris!"

Fenris jolted out of his daydream, a vivid memory that still haunted him from time to time. He remembered that he was in the Hanged Man, and that it was Varric who had been trying to shake him out of his reverie. The sun had already set by the time they had arrived at the tavern, and amongst all the reconstruction and demolition of Kirkwall's Lowtown, it was one of only two buildings that was left standing in the vicinity after both the Great War and the battle against the corrupt Knight-Commander Meredith.

Although the battle that was dubbed the Great War had only lasted four blood-soaked years, the destruction of the major cities across the lands made it seem like a century, and slowly but surely Man, Dwarf and Elf had banded together to fix the world anew; whether it was in the memory of the Champion, or that they were sick of the death and bloodshed that had spread across both their hearts and doorsteps, no one could really say nor want to. The other faint silver lining, was that with mass devastation came much employment; those that were living on the streets or had lost their jobs could quickly pick up a hammer or piece of wood and being rebuilding the city bit by bit and in turn earn money and bread, something that would make Hawke very happy if she were still alive...

Varric had arrived a minute too late with reinforcements that dark night; by then the crazy Arishok was freshly killed in a frenzied rage, and the remainder of that part of the antaam were rearing to kill the Elf that invaded their fortress, whilst others branched out to cause their own destruction across the world as well as gather reinforcements. As the dawn began to rise on a blood-soaked field, Varric had found his Elven friend clutching the fading body of Marian Hawke; the warrior that had a humble beginning in Lothering, had defeated various creatures from darkspawn to ogres and abominations, and also succeeded in instigating the Oath of Tears just two years before, soon began her journey to the Maker's side from blood loss in her lover's cradled arms. Marian's ashes were soon scattered across the oceans in memory of both her accomplishments and her ability to bring together companions from various walks of life. Even though the Great War went on for a few more years, Hawke's name once again lit the beacon of courage and strength, which eventually led to the overall defeat of the Qunari and the erection of a statue on the site of Lothering in her honor.

The next few years, the companions of the Champion saw more losses, whether it were by death, or fleeing to the ends of the world never to be seen again.

Aveline Vallen, who had first met the Hawke family when they were fleeing Lothering during the Blight, had returned to Kirkwall with her husband Donnic, and assumed the position of Viscountess to the public's request. Under her guidance, the city of Kirkwall had begun reconstruction and repopulation almost immediately, and because of her trade had flourished and crime had started to lessen to a record low for the first time in centuries.

Merrill the Dalish Blood Mage, had decided to set out on foot and see the world for the first time. That was three years ago, and no one had heard from her since. In a way, a few were grateful; whilst Merrill was at heart a kind and gentle soul, she had become increasingly bitter and angry since Hawke's death, and her 'disappearance' was a welcome comfort, as many still remember the stories that circulated about the vanishing of her entire clan, who were last seen on Mount Sundermont.

The pirate Isabela, had paired up with Andraste disciple Sebastian and took to the seas finding and battling Qunari warships in Hawke's name, until at last they died like heroes blowing up one of the giant ships with explosives and getting caught in the blast.

Carver, the last of the Hawke family bloodline, who had become a Grey Warden whilst on a journey to the Deep Roads, had decided of his own free will to journey down to Orzammar and join the Legion of the Dead, and his contact with the remainder of his sister's companions grew less, until eventually everyone assumed he had died in the Deep Roads after no response for almost a year.

Varric and Fenris decided to stick together and also travel the world, even spending a time in Fereldan with the Grey Warden King and Queen, only returning to Kirkwall just five months ago. Much had changed, and yet it wasn't until they got into a scuffle with a group of bandits that littered Darktown that they felt at home.

Sitting in what was still Varric's old palatial suite at the Hanged Man, the Dwarf and Elf had began knocking back ales and eating a meal, when they heard whispers outside the room door. The two barmaids of the tavern, Edwina and Norah, were quickly talking excitedly about an incident in Darktown, where a group of bandits had been killed in their stead. Varric and Fenris began smirking, a little proud of their handiwork, when the conversation started going in another direction entirely.

"...I'm telling you Norah, I saw him with my own eyes!"

"Oh _honestly_! You're telling me that the great Black Falcon assassin managed to take out a dozen Coterie, mage included, without so much as getting a scratch? It's ridiculous!"

"It _was_ him I swear! He left his signature at the scene as well, the one were it went-"

"Yes, yes Edie I know; '_To those who hunt and kill with passion-'_"

"_-Shall soon feel my wrath, so says the Black Falcon._'" Varric continued as the two women's voices carried down the hall and he sipped his ale. "Not exactly a master poet, but it gets the message across."

Fenris drained his mug and looked at the Dwarf with a puzzled look.

"So who is the Black Falcon anyway?" he questioned, "Is he another bandit we shore be wary of?"

"It's hard to say," shrugged Varric, "We have not been back in Kirkwall for six months, and most of my old contacts are either dead or left for greener pastures; all I know is that this guy is some kind of vigilante that has made it his mission to get rid of any riff raff in the Undercity. Since Hawke died, a lot of thugs have moved into Darktown and the outer lands of the city, and whilst Red is doing a fine job as Viscount, there's only so much she can do."

Fenris nodded in silence. "This 'Black Falcon' sounds like someone we should keep an eye on very closely, in case he becomes an enemy or an annoyance. Do you have any idea where he could be?" Varric rubbed his temples, an indication that it was getting late and the alcohol was slowly starting to seep in.

"As far as I know Broody, that Falcon has been popping up all over the place; thugs and gangs have bolt-holes all across Kirkwall, so him being in one place twice in a row is as unlikely as me giving up ale and joining the Chantry."

"Well, we'll need to keep our ears to the ground so to speak," Fenris continued, a slight smirk at that last comment, "Something tells me that we will cross paths again, and when we do, it would be best that we have him as an ally. There may be a storm coming, my friend, and we may need to prepare ourselves for it..."


	3. Chapter 2: Swooping is Bad

**WALKING CANVAS**

A Fenris/OFC Fanfiction

By

Viperqueen13

Author's Note: _Any character apart from my original creations belong and are created by the team at Bioware and EA Games_

***CHAPTER TWO: SWOOPING IS BAD***

"Maker's ass! These guys just don't know when to quit!"

"It seems that Scar has not learnt his lesson from last ti- _Ar son Dé_!Look out!"

Shit. That's the last time I take a shortcut to Hightown via the Docks

.

It had been a week since they had heard the first conversation that involved the Black Falcon, and it was not the last. Whilst Varric was keeping an ear out for possible locations for the vigilante hero to appear, he and Fenris seemed to hear more of him, especially in the Lowtown bazaar and certain circles within what was left of the Merchant's Guild. As well as the Coterie, several members of the Carta and even one or two hired assassins from the 'Outerlands' had either been beaten and left unconscious on the steps of Viscount's Keep, or had met their unfortunate demise by the Falcon's hand himself. Although the Black Falcon was considered a dangerous force by the nobility and some of the tradesmen in Kirkwall, Fenris could not help but be a little impressed with the mysterious entity.

It finally got to the point where one night at the Hanged Man, an urchin of Varric's had managed to find the possible location of a gang that were out for the Falcon's blood in Hightown. It wasn't until Varric and Fenris arrived at the location that night that they realized it was a trap set by Scar and the Steel Gauntlets; the only difference this time, was that there were forty bandits against one Warrior Elf and one Dwarven Rogue that quickly ran out of ammo.

Scar, who was leading the assault from a safe distance (the two may be outnumbered, but he wasn't completely stupid), was seething with anger and savoring the fact that they fell for the bait so easily. He also backed the two hindrances into a corner, with dwindling ammo and surrounded by all sides even with the mounting casualties. Such a chaos ensued, that no one even noticed a winged shadow come out of the darkness aiming straight for the ex-Templar, until a piercing shriek made everyone stop in their tracks.

A loud howl soon pierced the silent night, as Scar's face was newly slashed by the claws of a large falcon, brandishing a bronze beak and wings tipped of silver. The bird of prey then soared upwards to the full white moon, where a person was standing in silhouette. Fenris only needed to glance briefly to recognize the shade of yellow that emitted from the stranger's eyes, that it was the same entity he saw in Darktown; only this time, he was not sure if the entity was friend or foe. Various members of the Steel Gauntlets started to panic when they recognized who the figure was.

"Shit, we're in trouble now!"

"Boss, it's _him_, it's the Falcon! What do we do!?"

"You IDIOTS!" Scar managed to spit out through the blood erupting from his cheeks and one of his eyes, "Forget that son-of-a-bitch and get rid of _those _two right there!"

As if on cue, Varric managed to throw one of his remaining precious Miasmic Flasks, enabling Fenris to take a giant swing of his sword, granting the two of them the chance to kill more opponents and clear a path to escape thanks to the distraction. However despite this, Scar still managed to gather the remainder of his troops and make them run after Varric and Fenris.

Running blindly amongst renovated buildings and reconstructed alleyways, the Maker's hand had somehow cruelly guided them both to the steps of the crumbling Hawke estate, exhausted with nowhere else to turn and little time for Varric to pick the rusty lock on the large doors. Scar caught up to them, flanked by two Mages, three Rogue Archers and six Warriors with swords and shields, managing to grin through all the crimson and minced flesh.

"Nowhere to run you little maggots," Scar cackled, "You are going to pay for that day and then some, won't they boys?" A murmured agreement erupted from his group, "That whore of a girl was begging to be punished, and for that you deserve to feel my wrath."

Fenris made to step forward into a stance and prepare his broadsword, when a Dwarven arm reached across his torso and pushed him back.

"Varric-"

"You sure about that my friend?" Varric called out across the courtyard to the now confused Steel Gauntlets. It wasn't until the Dwarf pointed up towards the moon and the piercing shriek was heard again that Scar realized he was in deep shit.

A giant cloud of black began to make its ways across the rooftops and towards on of the Archers; two flashes of steel and sickening crunch pretty much told the vicinity that the Rogue's head had been detached from its body and began to roll into a gutter. The other two bowmen were not so lucky, by getting their throats slashed they gurgled and choked to death on their own blood before crumbling into a heap of flesh and bone. The mysterious shroud leapt over the remaining Steel Gauntlets and came to a stop in front of Fenris and Varric; all eyes were focused on the shape appearing from its dark cloak, whilst Scar had begun to fend off a fresh attack from the giant bird once again, swearing and brandishing his weapon like an idiot.

The Black Falcon was a person shrouded in leather in the shade of liquid black, with little or no steel armor in sight except for the Rogue Helmet that embraced and disguised his face, save for his yellow eyes that shone through like flaming torches. The daggers on his back had handles shaped like birds, the steel designed to look like talons with a strip of black running down their center. It also looked like that the Black Falcon was small for a Human; he was slim and had a similar size and build to Fenris, as well as the same posture and menacing presence. It wasn't until the bandits with shields began to charge towards the Falcon that Fenris realized just how similar they _really _were.

The Black Falcon started to emit an eerie glow that seeped from within his armor, and after a few seconds markings that looked like tattoos began to shine... markings that looked eerily like Fenris' own markings, except they seemed to glow a bright yellow instead of an electric, from the Falcon's ankles to disappearing under his helmet. It was at that point that Fenris froze to the spot in shock and confusion.

Impossible

!_ This can't be happening_!

Varric seemed to be as surprised as Fenris, but snapped out of it when the two Mages began hurtling balls of magic at them and began to shoot the last of his bolts at them.

The first Warrior that got close to the Black Falcon had no chance. Without drawing a dagger, Falcon's right hand and foot became balls of yellow and threw the bandit high in the air; the vigilante then threw a couple throwing stars into the skulls of two more before side-kicking the falling Gauntlet into a nearby pillar with a disgusting crunch.

Once again, without drawing weapons, the Black Falcon came at the remaining Warriors with such speed and ferocity Fenris dared not blink whilst he finally made for one of the Mages. The new ally became a blur in a flurry of kicks and punches like a miniature hurricane, successfully disarming all three opponents, before disappearing in a puff of smoke and stabbing one in the back whilst breaking the jaw of another with his boot.

Scar, after finally being able to shake off the giant bird, began to run towards the Falcon whilst his back was turned, swinging the sword he had blindly and furiously. Varric spotted this almost instantly and barked out to the stranger.

"Falcon, behind you, duck!"

In one fluid motion, the Black Falcon did the splits, spun his legs around whilst on his back and successfully managed to trip up Scar and slit the ex-Templar's throat with his dagger, before flipping up onto his feet and making sure his assailant stayed down permanently this time round by stomping on his back as he landed. The remaining Warrior left standing and one of the Mages were soon mowed down by Fenris' Whirlwind technique, and Varric made to put away his crossbow. The Elf and Dwarf had forgotten about the last Mage, who had enough strength left in him to cast a Fireball spell towards them. The Black Falcon spotted this and called out a muffled warning because of his helmet.

"Ar son Dé

!Get out of the way NOW!"

It was too late. A split second later the Fireball landed just half a meter from Varric and Fenris and sent the both of them flying into the old doors of the Hawke estate, knocking them unconscious. Fenris had just enough strength to see the Mage in question being swooped down up by the falcon animal before swimming out of focus, where he could have sworn that he saw Hawke's face calling out to him to stay alive...

...

"_Fenris! Maker's Breath wake up! I've got to pack up the tent_!"

The broody Elf groaned and simply rolled over in his camp bed. Dawn had just risen, and with Fenris being Fenris, he was not a morning person and was not planning to get up and hunt for breakfast for a while yet. It wasn't until he felt something cold and wet attack his face that he grabbed his lover's hand and bolted upright in a cold shock.

"Alright, alright Hawke, I'm up!"

"Uh, much as I like to be the object of your fantasies Broody, I ain't Hawke. Now could you please let go?"

It took Fenris a moment to realize that it was yet another dream, and the hand that took to soaking his face was Varric Tethras dabbing the Elf's forehead with a damp cloth. Fenris groaned as the memories of the previous battle began flooding back with a rush and a wince. He then looked around to realize that he was in what was left of main foyer in the Hawke estate, bathed in the glow of a roaring fire and covered with a few musty blankets. Varric managed to find an old armchair and started maintenance on Bianca whilst he himself was covered with bandages and a healing salve coated a gash on his cheek.

"Ugh, what are we doing back here?" Fenris groaned, mainly from sad annoyance as well as cringing in pain.

"Well Fenris," Varric started "It seems that our knight in shining armor had managed to shimmy the lock and decided to hide us in here until we woke up. At a guess, I'd say we were out of it for two days."

A squawk came from the rafters, making the two men jump, drawing their attention to the giant falcon perched on a wooden beam, who was watching them intently with beady little eyes as its master came out from one of the old libraries with two trays of food and hip flasks of water, still wearing his leather armor and helmet. Fenris began getting up when Varric put a hand on his chest again, chuckling.

"I think you better just sit than stand Broody." he smirked, "In case you hadn't noticed, you're a little underdressed for dinner."

Sure enough, Fenris looked down to see that he was practically naked save for the blankets and his lyrium markings. The Elf had taken several arrows to the chest and left thigh, along with several stab wounds in his arm and collarbone; all of these were stitched and bandaged with the finesse of a surgeon, guaranteeing only the bare minimum of scarring once he healed. The Black Falcon shook his head in what appeared to be in amusement, the orbs of yellow in his helmet radiating amusement. He set down the flasks and trays and silently made to disappear into the library again.

"Now hold on a second, Falcon," Varric piped up, "Why don't you stick around? We wanna thank you and ask you some questions."

The Black Falcon began to look nervous and fidgety, mumbling something incoherent through the steel that protected his face. Fenris clicked on as to why he reacted that way.

"We swear good sir, we won't reveal your identity to anyone, but you need to take off the helmet so we can understand you."

The Falcon looked at both the Elf and the Dwarf, who nodded with assurance that he would keep mum as well; for a storyteller as chatty as Varric Tethras, that was saying a lot, Fenris thought humorously.

The masked stranger heaved a sigh and began to untie the clasp under his chin and remove his helmet. When the headpiece was finally removed completely, Fenris and Varric both did a double take.

"_Daor Dia_!"

"Holy shit. I wasn't expecting that..."

Staring back at the two wounded men with yellow eyes like a falcon, was yet another Elf with similar markings to Fenris. But what shocked them most was this; the Black Falcon that saved their lives, was also a _woman_..._._


End file.
